


The taste of grave in the mouth

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, End of the World, Eventual Romance, It's similar to zombies, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world, as some would put it, and Levi meets Erwin as he heads to another town. People are dying of a mysterious infection that kills them in under 24 hours, and those who have been infected for a longer time will lose control of their body and also their consciousness, causing them to try to infect everyone else around them. Even some who have not been touched by the infected get turned, which is why people are fearing for their lives— praying to God, or out there killing. Billions of humans have turned into a mere few thousands, and Erwin and a few others are what's left of the Survey Corps as the other divisions have fallen. </p><p>Will they ever find out what's the cause of this infection, or will they die trying to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elgin

Levi meets him when he goes to Elgin.

The whole world is a ghost town built over corpses and corpses. It doesn't matter where he heads to — everywhere, there'll just be skeletons with rotting skins still slipping off of the white and into another white that is heaven, for those who believe. There used to be a cathedral in Elgin, but that's a few thousand years ago. Holiness doesn't have an expiry date, which is why there'll surely be some people seeking protection there. Those who still believe.

He knows the man in front of him isn't infected. The first sign is a red mark around their throats. The infected ones don't last more than 24 hours and start to lose their body parts—nails, fingers, toes or limbs—in the first few hours, their organs—stomach, liver, appendix—in the next few, and the last to go are their brains and hearts.

That man's hands are dirty, flecked with soil and crumbs of dirt; the ground underneath his fingernails. He looks like he's plunged his hands six feet underground and pulled them back up slowly.

It's rare to see people who are still alive, and Levi knows this man will probably die in the next few days anyway, so he decides to make small talk. It's the end of the world, as some people put it, so there's no reason not to. In fact, there's no reason to do anything anymore. Death is a fate that'll come in days. Or months, if he's lucky.

Levi walks closer to the blonde man.

"Your hands are dirty," he says, even though he already knows why they are.

The man glances at his hands right after and smiles knowingly, his blue eyes still glistening underneath this dark sky. "Had to bury my friend," he tells him in a hoarse voice, and Levi exhales. Those still alive know how it goes. It's clear that it wasn't the first time the man has done such a thing, but that friend must have meant a lot if he used his hands to dig the hole and bury his body.

Materials like shovels are easy to get, but he supposes that digging the soft soil with hands makes it feel more in touch with humanity. They lose that when they get infected. It's the one last thing they can give them because there are no longer funerals or cremation. Levi has buried his friends, too, and he knows what that feels like.

It's a funny, detached feeling where you think of who they are and how they were when they were alive, and it all just doesn't fit together. Their faces dirtied with the blood that he spilled.

"Most people don't do that nowadays," Levi comments.  _We stopped burying our dead after a while._

The man leans in closer to Levi, cleaning his hands with a medium-sized white cloth he took out from his pockets, but it's not clean enough. He still sees blood on that man's hands because blood is hard to clean off.

If their friend is infected, no one lets them live the full 24 hours because it'll be a torment—it's difficult, all of them knows, but they have to kill them. Decapitation is one of the common ways to do it, but there are more extreme methods.

"Well," the man tells him, his bangs falling on his brow. "I'm not most people." He pauses, then breathes like he's never had air inside his lungs—thinking, observing Levi. "I buried him because he wasn't whole when he died, and he's my best friend.  _Was,_  I mean. He deserved to be buried whole and as humanly as I could manage. I think you've felt the same way, too."

"Who hasn't?"

The man gives a slight nod in agreement, and Levi still finds himself staying put. They live in a time where conversations are rare.

It's hard to even have small talk anymore, because people are now always in panic—always running, always fearing for the day they'll turn into those monsters. Even if they haven't been in contact or ever been touched by an infected person, they'll sometimes turn. It has happened, which is why Levi prefers traveling alone. It lessens the burden. No one likes killing their friends, and it's hard to bury someone you know you killed.

Who knows, maybe he'll be the next to turn. Somehow that thought doesn't scare him as much as it should.

After a while, the man speaks again. He's still smiling. "What's your name?"

"There's no point in knowing each other's names," Levi says. Knowing someone's name puts a title, an attachment, to the person he can see inside his head. One day he might even need to kill him, and it'll be less of a bad feeling if he doesn't know how he is, if he just remains a stranger. It doesn't seem to convince him, so he adds on, "We'll all die soon. It's not needed."

"So," the man begins saying. "You don't want to tell me your name because you think we'll all die soon?"

"I don't think that," Levi corrects him, his stare piercing into the man's eyes sharply. "We  _will_  all die soon."

The man chuckles. "How pessimistic."

"It's hard not to be when we're surrounded by skeletons all over, old man," Levi says. The dead litters every road there is and the faces are barely recognizable. No one knows whose skeleton is whose. He watches the man and realizes that he isn't that old— just around his thirties— so that means he's only a few years older than him. How ironic. He then tells him, "And smiling isn't going to help much."

"There aren't many things in this world that'll help, but you still do them, anyway."

He is right, but Levi doesn't want to have to admit it.

"That's a different thing," Levi tells him. Every reason for every thing would be for a different cause. No one thing is the same as the others. "Burying your best friend wouldn't make a difference, but you do it. That's because it's for him—for his sake. Smiling wouldn't do anything for anyone."

"Really?" the man asks, amused. "I think it'd put me in a better mood if you did."

"I don't live to satisfy your whims," he spits. He thinks of attachment, bonds and death, then decides that his original plan of going alone is better. Levi glances at the man—the area where the corner of his eyes start to edge in. He's seen loss. He doesn't have to see it again. Neither does Levi. "Are we done?"

The man takes a deep breath and exhales it like a sigh. Like a collapse. "So you won't tell me your name, then?"

Levi thinks this man is different and unlike the others who are either extremely scared of dying that they sometimes kill themselves instead, or the ones who go insane and kill everyone else because they believe if they do that, then they won't be the ones to turn. This man is not even the ones who hide inside a safe house and spend his life like that. Levi considers leaving, and some other part of him considers staying.

In the end, he makes his decision and still says, "No."

He does give him one last glance before continuing walking towards Elgin. Like guns, you'll always have your finger on the trigger if you're in a dangerous place where a dangerous somebody lurks, Levi has his sword—the hilt of it—at his fingertips. Just one little noise and he'll draw it. It's not been researched, but in the first few hours, the infected ones still have a bit of their consciousness left, but in the next few, their bodies go on autopilot and start wanting to infect everybody else. It's their default instinct.

Knowing this doesn't make him feel better about killing them, but if he doesn't, he'll be the corpse on the ground.

The man is still following him, and by the looks of it, he isn't an inexperienced fighter. When he walks, he barely makes a sound, and that's important because the infected ones often respond to sound. The man wears a cape with some wings etched on its back. He's seen someone with those wings, too. Levi isn't planning on letting him follow him any longer, but when he does want to tell him to get lost, the man asks him: "Where are you headed?"

It must be because he knows he won't be getting to know Levi's name anytime soon, or not ever, so he's asking for location instead.

"Elgin," Levi decides to tell him. Places aren't important. He's always on the move.

"Where the cathedral was?"

Levi nods indifferently. The cathedral's in ruins, so he doesn't know why he's heading there but he supposes that's only because it's the closest, and the other town would be miles away. Everyone goes everywhere on foot now, but if he finds a vehicle, he'll use it. It's just not often seen, and most of everything is destroyed.

Suddenly, there's a snapping sound of a twig and then sees that the man has his hand tugged along his trousers in a swift moment.

The man draws out his sword before Levi does. He's quick to react. From this, he knows an infected one is drawing near. It takes a few more second for it to appear from the darkness of the night, its right eyeball gone as well as his left arm. The skin of the infected is already rotting, so it must have been like that for hours now. Infected ones infect easily: just one touch and they'll get it, too.

The point of long swords is not touching them—especially not let them touch their skins—but once they're dead, touching them wouldn't be a problem.

Levi backs away. He decides he'll observe how strong the man is, to test him—some part of him says that the man interests him, so he stays to watch. The man looks in Levi's direction and gets an idea of what he's doing, so he nods understandingly and walks towards the infected. The infected moves like how normal humans moves, but its attacks are sometimes more predictable.

The man charges forward and in one swift motion, he's now behind the infected and puts his sword back in place. The infected falls to the ground seconds after with its head on the other side of the road. A thud follows as expected.  _Oh, he's strong,_  Levi thinks to himself. Maybe they're equally as strong.

"That's not bad," he compliments. It's the best he can give.

The man smiles again, but Levi rather he didn't. He's not even slightly out of breath as his calm voice speaks again, "Will you tell me your name now?"

Levi doesn't say anything for the next few seconds. His tongue moves behind the arch of his lips, the edge of his teeth sharp against the sides, and he glances down at the infected on the ground, then back at the man. It'll be a shame not to, even if this man will die in the next few days or months. He lets it go, because sometimes he has to. "It's Levi."

"My name is Erwin," the man tells him right after.

 _Erwin_ , he repeats inside his head as he starts walking along with him towards where Elgin is. It sort of rhymes. There's a feeling in his chest that won't sit still. Erwin isn't like the previous friends or comrades he's had—he's strong, he keeps on smiling even though the world is in total chaos, and he's staying with him. He's the type who'll bury him if he dies.

"Speaking of which," Levi says, "what was the name of the friend you buried?"

"Mike."

His eyes widen. There was a person named Mike that Levi had ran into a few months or weeks ago, actually. It was during the one time he got cornered and was almost touched by the infected, and Mike saved him—cut off the head of the infected and shielded him from the blood he spilled. Of course, it's a common name and it could most likely be anyone else named Mike, but Levi decides to ask from memory: "Zakarius?"

"How'd you know?" Erwin asks back, genuinely surprised. "Have you met him?"

Coincidences do happen, after all. Maybe this meeting is fated, as much as Levi doesn't believe in destiny and things written in stone. It's a horrible feeling again to think that the man he just met a while ago is now inside the ground and dead. It's bitter. It's inside his mouth driving, driving—Levi balls his hands into a fist.

"He saved my life once," Levi recalls it like a fond memory, but it comes out sadder. "In Rothes."

"I was near Rothes."

"I didn't see you there."

"We split up occasionally to hunt for food," Erwin tells him. Underneath his voice is a sorrow only he himself knows about. "Mike and I were part of the Survey Corps, but most of us were killed and it was down to just around ten of us, so we decided to go different ways instead. We've all fought together for years, so surely none of us wants to see each other die."

Levi nods. He's heard of the Survey Corps—it's one of the few divisions that tried to stop the plague—the infection from getting to everyone; but in the end still failed. The Survey Corps is the only division that still has a few members alive when it used to have hundreds, but the other divisions are full of dead bodies. It's been many years and the populated planet has gone from billions to a mere few thousand.

He doesn't doubt his time will be soon.

Erwin stopped talking—to think or to process things in his head—so Levi asks, "What happened to him?"

"The infection got to him," Erwin says simply. It doesn't hurt less to try to devoid his voice of any emotions. It actually drains him—as it'll drain anyone—to talk about the ones they've had to bury. He found him while hunting and had to kill him, too. "He wasn't touched. It just happened. We're still trying to find out what's causing it to happen."

"We?"

"The Survey Corps," he says. "We still keep in touch, just not in person."

Levi wants to ask how—because there is rarely any electricity left, which means cell phones and any other things that depend on electricity are useless; and no one knows how this happened either, it's like one day they woke up and everything just went back to basic, its default form—and Erwin takes a glance at him and tells him, "Carrier pigeons."

"Oh," Levi says. A realization. "Animals don't turn."

Erwin nods. Which is why they stay in one place for a month before moving on to the next. "It's only us humans," he mutters, and pauses to breathe. It takes him a while to get the next line out of his throat, and the reason behind the hesitation is mainly because he doesn't think Levi will agree. "It's as though God wants us dead."

He gets a mocking little laugh from the boy. "You think God is behind all this? You think God is playing a game and is choosing who to turn next or who he wants to keep alive—is that your ridiculous theory?"

It's not a theory. It's just what's been screaming into his head all these years; his head slowly turning the unknown into God. The theory the Survey Corps have come up with is that the virus, infection, whatever it is, is spread into the air and long exposure—breathing—will infect them and turn them into those fast-dying monsters. But different humans turn at different rates, so no one knows when it'll be their turn. And because no one knows what chemical it is that is turning them into those, they don't know how to make an antidote or a cure.

Who knows if it's even a chemical. It might as well be Armageddon.

"I'm just saying some people think that," Erwin adds. There's a stench that grows stronger as they go on, and Levi uses the cloth of his cravat to cover his nose and mouth. After a while, Erwin asks him, "What about you, Levi? Do you believe in God?"

"If I did, I'd be in a church praying," he says. "So no, I don't. I don't think this has anything to do with God, and even before this, I've always thought this world to be Godless. We just are— alone with our bodies, bones and blood."

Erwin throws a gaze at him—one of curiosity. "You must have something you believe in."

"I don't," Levi just says. "I don't need something like that."

"Well," Erwin breathes, "when you were cornered—before Mike rescued you—what was the one thing you thought of in that moment near death?" There'll always be something. People who say their minds go empty usually don't remember that moment well, because their minds will block out the scarier parts and make them believe it's not like that. They remember differently.

"I just thought," he says after a while, "of how unhygienic that infected man was."

Erwin chuckles at this. "That's all?"

"What else do you want to hear? That I prayed to God to let me live or something?" Levi retorts sarcastically, half pissed at the fact that Erwin doesn't seem to believe in what he says. It's true, though, the one thing he thought of when he was almost turned was how dirty that snot from the infected man was, and maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to escape if Mike didn't save him, too.

He doesn't know what would have happened, though. Maybe he would've died. Either way, he never thanked Mike properly for that, too, only told him his name and in return, knew his name. His head is downcast.

"You're a funny one."

Levi snorts. "I wasn't trying to be funny."

"I know," Erwin says smiling.

Silence engulfs them. Erwin's bangs fall into his face and he uses his hand to sweep them back behind his ear. His hair is long and he hasn't had the time to cut it, but Levi looks like he's been cutting his. There are things he starts to know about Levi—who still looks like a boy to him even though he's somewhere around his twenties—despite the short time they've known each other.

Erwin takes himself to be someone who's good at observing and understanding people, so it's not that difficult to know that Levi's more concerned about hygiene than anything else, and that he hates to kill, but still has to. It's the only way to live.

After that, the boy starts to say, like he has been thinking about it for a long time, "Where's his grave?"

"Mike's?" Erwin asks, surprised.

Levi gives a nod, and then adds, "I haven't thanked him."

Erwin is surprised at his words because he never took him for the sentimental type. Maybe it isn't sentimentalism; just that he wants to thank him for that little favor. He's a person who's loyal to those he owes. Erwin starts to like Levi, and well, he doesn't have much time to consider why he likes him, or what he likes him for. It's all ending very slowly, this world, so he'll have to do it all quickly. The things he wants to do. Or like.

"We'll have to make a detour," he says. "It's in front of a sycamore tree."

They haven't walked for that far yet, so it'll mostly just take a few more hours to reach Mike's grave. Erwin remembers where he buried his body—there was a sycamore tree inside the forest, the hugest he could find—and it's right in front of that tree. It'll be easy to find. He made a cross from wood in the short time he had, still chased by the infected, and carved Mike's name onto the middle.

He prayed for his soul to depart.

"Let's go, then," Levi tells him, and meets Erwin's eyes accidentally. Something about them makes him decide to say, "You'll be with me for quite some time, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Erwin hears himself say. It's in his heart and in his bones. He nods to himself, and thinks of how it sounds like a promise he'll never have again from anyone else. The tone Levi uses makes him think that perhaps if he dies, he'll be the one to bury his body. Or in a way, Levi's saying to bury his body if he dies first. It's that kind of a promise. None other exists. "Yeah, I would."

It's closest to a bond they'll ever get. Erwin hears Levi breathe easier as they make the detour to Mike's grave.


	2. Heartbeat

The cross is tied tightly together with ropes; a few feet underground, drowned in the scent of Earth. There's no such thing as fresh air when they're at ground level—it's all just the stench of piss, rotting, and blood. The last thing doesn't smell that bad when it's fresh, but it starts to lose the metallic and becomes something else. Some people say blood tastes like a copper coin inside your mouth, some say it's sweet and sugary.

Blood never is the same.

Levi's palms are together as he kneels down on the brown soil. He hates filth, but concerning death and a person who can be considered his savior; well, he doesn't care if his insides are hanging from his chest and abdomen. He closes his eyes and focuses, tries to think of Mike's face, etches his name onto that, and exhales a  _thank you_ , a _rest in peace._

Erwin sits on a long tree log as he watches over him. They're never safe here—not in this world, never, never. He thinks of putting flowers beside the grave, but they've all withered and died out. There hasn't been rain for months and the last one time he can even remember what water is like was when he drank from a stream and wiped himself with a damp cloth. Mostly to wipe off the blood he doesn't want to see.

It's going to take a while and it's too dark to see anything. Levi leaves his hand on the top of the cross and says something to it, but Erwin can't hear what he's saying. Probably something to ease his soul. He then steps quietly away and seats himself beside Erwin as he breathes out from his mouth.

They're both tired. Sleep is a luxury.

"We should spend the night here," he moves his fingers like in circles and in shapes, "—continue when the sun comes up." Levi puts his hand on his forehead, wipes the sweat off. He rubs his hands and fingers together out of coldness, to generate warmth for himself. It's scarred from all the battles he's forced to fight—because he's not afraid of dying, but he just doesn't like the idea of throwing away his life just because it doesn't matter to him.

He'll live this life until whenever it's stolen from him.

Erwin's eyes fall on Levi's hands, the way he breathes out warm air from his lungs to make sure he doesn't get any colder. The night is chilly, starless; the rest of the universe, time and space over their heads— it is the ceiling. In a gentle voice, he tells him, "I can light a fire if you want."

"No," Levi is quick to reject the idea. "There might be some of them still out there. The fire will just attract their attention."

"Then I'll keep watch and take them down if they do come our way," Erwin tells him in an assuring tone—like he's sure of it. He doesn't doubt his own strength, and he knows Levi doesn't either.  _I'll keep you safe_ , he thinks to himself,  _even though I don't know why I want to._

Such madness runs through his body; a straight line for an ocean.

There's a moment, just one little second, where he wants to put his hand over Levi's in a way to comfort, but he stops himself before his hands go and do the things that'll get him scolded. He's falling quickly for him and he wonders if he feels the same—then he laughs silently inside the back of his mind and behind his heart when he realizes he's thinking of love and romance when it's the end of the world or that he could die the next day, too.

Oh, but it's precisely because the world is ending that he has to love fast, quick, and do everything so he won't regret not doing them. But when he dies, he won't remember. He won't remember the things he regrets. It's a sad thing, life.

They still try.

"I've been sleeping without the warmth of a fire for months after I left a safe house, and I've survived well alone," Levi tells him. Apathetic writes in his veins. "Why start changing it now?"

"If that's so," Erwin says, "then why are you letting me stay with you?"

It's something he thinks about, too. From the whole journey to Elgin, the detour to Mike's grave. And he hasn't come up with an answer yet. Every single time he asks himself why he's letting Erwin stay and fight with him, his body tells him, _I don't know. I don't know. I just do. I just._

So that's what he tells him. The truth. "I don't know."

"You don't?"

Erwin sounds surprised, like he thinks Levi has the answers for everything contained inside his body—his every word a carefully picked out ink, a letter inside him that speaks of reason and answers. His head isn't completely his, at times. There'll be once or twice where he doesn't know a thing and he'll never be able to think of an answer until sometime later.

"I don't," Levi says. He wants to know the answer as well.

"Well," Erwin mumbles, "maybe you'll find the answer one day." Then he gets up, his hand on his knees as he pushes himself off the log, and stands before Levi—casting a shadow somewhere on the ground. "I'll go look for some tinder to start the fire."

"Yeah, okay," the boy says. He's not looking much at him than he is at himself, and his voice is a tired one. It isn't a physical tiredness that sleep can cure, it's something that'll never go, clings to his body like a parasite—absorbs, takes, steals from him; his life and his soul. It'll never have his heart, though, he keeps it safe in-between his warm hands. "I'll stay here."

"And will you still be here when I get back?" Erwin has to make sure, to be sure.

Levi is a bird. He'll never stay at one place for too long. If the Survey Corps weren't almost dead and all separated, he would have asked him to join them. Perhaps he will, if some of them are still alive—he doesn't know for sure if they are because he hasn't gotten any news since he left the base in search of humanity, in search of a cure.

"Where else would I go?" Levi says it like it's an obvious thing—that he'll stay.

"You did say you were heading to Elgin."

"That was what I originally planned to do when I walked from the other town," he agrees, "but that's only because it's convenient and just North of where I was." His eyes look like a fire, a purpose. A single flame kept lit by a reason. "A change is fine. I'm not going to run away."

Erwin seems convinced by this. He turns and walks into the woods—his eyes trained on Levi. "I won't be long."

"Take your time."

 

 

* * *

 

When he gets back, of course, he's half-afraid that the boy won't be there anymore, but all of that turns into a relief when he sees that Levi is still there. It's been a few months since he has lived outside—previously, they just stayed in a small house, but food eventually ran out, and out there in the hospitals and buildings, people just kept turning and dying. Because of this, they used weapons—cannons, guns, even bombs— to destroy large groups of them and it became a war against themselves.

Humans killing humans. In the end, everyone was wiped out and the world is destroyed, in ruins, and even his house isn't there anymore. Erwin's trying to find the cure and the cause of the infection, and Levi—well, he's just moving. Doesn't have a place to go. He wants to find a home, possibly, somewhere to die in comfort, but he hasn't found that yet. Everywhere he goes, people are rotting.

Erwin lights a fire in the middle, and it keeps them both warm. They're used to sleeping in forests without sleeping bags because the less they carry, the better. The heavier things are, it'll just weigh down on them and restrict their movements. If they need food, they'll hunt. If they need water, they'll fill their water bottle with water from a stream.

Things aren't so complicated. They only seem to be.

The both of them lean their backs against a big log, their capes keeping them warm.

"There are no stars today," Erwin says tiredly. It's actually been like that for quite some time. There used to be many he couldn't finish counting with his fingers and toes, but right now, they don't blink or shine anymore. It's like they've died out on the same day humanity did.

"You like them? Stars?"

"I do. It makes the universe looks vast. That life," he uses his fingers— his index, the middle, the thumb; loosely— to point at the sky, and the parts where the trees stop growing taller—that line between green and dark blue, "doesn't just end here."

"You're really optimistic," Levi comments. It's not a good thing. "It makes people feel like shit."

"Particularly you, I believe?"

Levi doesn't give an answer to that, because it's partially true. Optimism, happiness, smiling or plain laughter; in this world it's rare, it's like the closest thing to God, if He exists, and to him, it burns at a high temperature. If he touches it, he'll get burnt. It is a foreign matter, a nebula—an exploding star—and as beautiful as it may be, as shining, as tempting as it is, he can't want it. He can't have it. It'll make him believe that this life here isn't bad.

But it is. And he knows that. This man comes along and it all gets a little jumbled up. It's a sad thought when he thinks of how maybe this man would get turn without being touched, maybe sometime soon, and if he's just beside him, then he'll have to kill him, too. He's fine with killing. Levi can stop himself from feeling something he's doing completely and without hesitation.

If he does, though, he'll sigh and think  _what a pity. What a waste._

It goes quiet. The night takes their fatigue, and the fire covers them warmly and closely. Levi's body is inches away from Erwin's as he leans back a little onto the log. Although it may not be the most comfortable environment he can say he's slept in, it's the most peaceful one. It feels safe. And he's never felt this way for a very long time.

He wonders if it's because of Erwin, because of his presence and strength. Levi turns his head a little and uses the corner of his eye to look at the man who looks like he's thinking about something, presumably death and blood and the darker things. Erwin has a weird tie, and Levi doesn't remember the name of it but he thinks he knows what it is.

Just can't remember it right now.

"Your tie," he decides to ask, and at the same time make small talk, "what's it called? I can't seem to recall."

"It's a bolo tie," Erwin says plainly.

Levi nods, then silently says to himself, "It's kind of ugly."

"Well," he muses, smiling, "don't look at it, then."

"Easier said than done."

The fire keeps on burning. Levi is thirsty, he's hungry, he's tired, and most of all, he's trying to find an answer to a question he doesn't know how to. When he looks at Erwin, he feels—he feels like he's known him for a lifetime. Has he met him before? He thinks he has. Before this, before he met Erwin while going to Elgin.

Another life, perhaps? It's like there's something in his mind but when he tries to reach and grab it, he can't—he's not there yet. He's somewhere, but not where he wants to be. This life is all he's known, ever since the end of the world started, and somehow, he  _knows_  Erwin. It's impossible, but if they've had another life together, it was probably in times of war and chaos, too.

That's what they'll get, the kind of people that they are. Without bloodshed, they're meaningless. They're not here.

Erwin's still awake, so when Levi says something again, this will be the last time for the night. The last conversation before he sleeps because maybe when he wakes up, one of them will be gone and dead.

"Have we met before?"

"No," Erwin tells him. "Why, do you feel like we have?"

Levi nods with a thought. "It's just a feeling. Ignore it—it's probably nothing."

"Actually," he says after quite some time, "I also feel the same way. That's why I wanted to know your name, why I followed you and still want to stay. Perhaps we've had a previous life together."

"Maybe," Levi mutters. He's not the type to believe in previous lives, destiny, fate and all these spiritual things; but his instincts are rarely wrong. If there's a strong attachment towards a person, and if that feeling alone didn't start out as love or liking but instead, a knowing, then there must be something in-between them that he can't see with naked eye. So, yes, maybe—maybe they've met in another life. Half sarcastically, he comments, "It probably was an apocalyptic mess, too."

He hears Erwin chuckle. "You don't believe in God but you believe in previous lives?"

"It's not the same," Levi says. "I don't have to believe in God to believe that when we die and our souls depart, there'll be a way for us to find the people that we were in our previous lives. It's different from believing there's an old man in the clouds waiting to damn us all to hell if we break his rules."

A pause.

"Is there really nothing else you believe in?"

Levi breathes, then says, "There's really nothing." It is lower than a whisper.

With that, he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. He hopes that when he wakes, he'll still be there. When he's close to sleeping—that place between dreaming and awake—he can hear Erwin's heartbeat. It's a rhythm. _(Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.)_  He finds he's able to fall asleep like this, this shared warmth between them, this familiar feeling he can't talk about.

He feels safe for this one time in his life.

 

 

* * *

 

In the morning, his eyes search for Erwin, but he's not there. Maybe he's gone now, he thinks to himself. There's no reason for him to stay either, and so much for all that talk about knowing him in a previous life. Just as he thinks about this, he sees the same man walking from inside of the forest to where the tree is, where Levi is, with meat in his hands. Probably a boar, judging from its size.

"Morning," the man greets him with a smile as he walks over to where the fire was. Levi just gives him an indifferent nod as he realizes he's actually bringing him breakfast. Erwin builds another fire and stabs a stick through the boar, and hangs it over the fire.

Soon after, Levi breaks out of the sleep-haze and shifts his body. He sits straight with a slightly puzzled expression. "You went to hunt for food?"

"I thought you might be hungry," Erwin says. A matter of fact. "There's also water."

Levi turns to look beside him to find water bottles filled to the brim with fresh water, and he wonders how he managed to do all of this in such a short time, but he realizes that Erwin must have woke up many hours ago. He starts to blame himself for not noticing his absence—he was supposed to know if anything moves or gets any closer to him even when he sleeps. To stay on full alert.

It must have been because Erwin made him feel too safe, which was why he let his guard down. This isn't good—he can't risk his survival over some blonde man he met only a day ago. He'll have to leave. After breakfast, he supposes. There's no need to hurry.

Levi feels small when he's with him.

Not size—he knows he can overpower anyone despite his size. It's how he feels, like his body shrinks and turns to water. Evaporates and turns to nothingness, just vapor in the air.

Soon, the meat is cooked and Erwin hands it to him, he takes it and sits back, bites into the meat and eats it no matter how bad it tastes because energy is important. He needs strength so that he'll be able to win fights. Kill more humans. It's like a cycle, and he thinks himself to be a murderer than a survivor. He kills and eats animals to kill more humans. It's all for himself.

It's such a selfish thing.

He drinks the water from the bottle after he's done with the meat, sits for a little longer as Erwin finishes his. Levi wants to leave, but his legs won't let him. He's been alive for too long to know that he's in complete control of his body and psychological restriction is just something he can overcome with a small push. Levi gets up and dusts the dirt off of himself.

"We're going?" Erwin asks immediately after, getting up as well.

"Not we, Erwin," he tells the man cruelly. "There has never been a we."

Erwin doesn't look half-surprised, but instead looks like he knows that this would happen eventually, and he just smiles to himself a smile he can't get out. Wherever Levi goes, he goes alone—it's been like that for a long time. Who is he to think that he can change who Levi is? But on Erwin's face, there’s no sign of betrayal, hatred or anger. It's just acceptance. He nods his head.

"You're leaving, then?"

"I am."

His fingers still in his hair, the back of his head. "Can I at least know why?"

It takes Levi a while to form his answer. His sentences are all over the place inside his head. He decides to cut it short. "I'm afraid I might regret it. Staying, I mean."

It's not a proper answer and not his real reason, but it's enough. It's for the best, after all. There's no reason for him to fight together with Erwin. Not for some previous life shit, most definitely not because he makes him feel so safe that he loses all the alert he used to have. He can't live easy. Fear, anxiety, death— it's what keeps him going, not comfort. Not whatever he feels for Erwin. To live, he has to keep his sword and his mind sharp.

Erwin doesn't seem to be convinced by that answer but he accepts it, anyway. He's not his.

"You'll be fine on your own?"

"I've always been fine on my own."

"Well then," Erwin finally says, "stay safe, Levi."

Levi nods, thinks of saying  _you too_ , but doesn't because he doesn't want to get attached. He is already attached enough—fallen, sinking—and he walks away after quite some time. Before that, he meets his eyes, and thinks to himself the next time he sees him would probably be when either of them are infected and dying, or already a corpse on the ground. He goes far enough and continues going to Elgin. Maybe he'll try building a house there.

Erwin doesn't move an inch from where he was standing after Levi left, and just sighs about it. It's already a good thing that Levi stayed with him till morning before telling him in his face that he wants to leave, because there are other choices like leaving in the middle of the night without a word, without a proper goodbye to give to him.

It's already good enough. He wonders if he'll ever see him again. He wonders if he'll stay, the next time he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some feedback would be nice, please. :)


End file.
